


Arthur’s first journal

by boubigolpa



Series: 1886 [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Motherly Affection, Swearing, arthur is a moody cowboy, he’s also a child, john is bad at shooting, they’re both messes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boubigolpa/pseuds/boubigolpa
Summary: Arthur and John do not get along. John is a scrawny brat and Arthur has had enough of it, so he’d better not push his luck too far. Unfortunately for him, that’s just what he does.
Series: 1886 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046488
Kudos: 16





	Arthur’s first journal

**Author's Note:**

> I realized there was a typo IN THE SUMMARY ;__;  
> I’m really sorry! I’m still learning English, so if you happen to spot any other mistakes, feel free to tell me!

Arthur Morgan was a simple man. Just a guy who enjoyed messing around with the girls in town, galloping away from their father's with his most trusted stallion and helping Dutch Van Der Linde with anything.  
His life used to be perfect, up until one day his mentor, the man he considered to be his own father, brought a child to the camp. John Marston.  
His own name was too much to handle for the kid, his skinny shoulders too light even for a blanket. That day, everything changed for the gang.

The worst part was that Dutch had decided on his own that Arthur should be the one taking care of him. Of course. "You guys have so much in common!" Except they didn't. John was a scrawny bastard whose only thoughts were how many mischiefs he could pull off every five seconds. Not to mention his high-pitched voice, that was one of the worst sound to Arthur's ears. The young man would rather hear the sound of a baby crying than John shouting. He was like a bug in a non-stop fit of energy jumping everywhere, but no one could crush it. Arthur on his part, had interests slightly different than playing nanny for a kid that thought himself to be manly enough to be cocky because he’d broken out of a place or two. John thought he had done great for the most part, but other than him being barely alive when Dutch and Hosea brought him in that day, everything else proved otherwise. 

The boy was in his pre-teen's, about twelve or so, which meant his brain could be compared to a goldfish's, or so Arthur thought.  
When Hosea was too busy, he was the one in charge of teaching him how to read, despite not being that great, and every time John was testing his limits.  
They shouted at each other all day long, and sometimes John was brave enough to risk throwing a punch at Arthur.  
Being carefully watched by Dutch, the young adult could not risk getting scolded by the leader, so he had to leave it be, which John often took advantage of, being the pre-teen he was.  
Arthur was at his limit, the boy was being all but reprimanded on his attitude, even encouraged at times (“What a temper the boy has! He’ll grow into one hell of an outlaw“ he had heard Dutch say) and Arthur would let his poor mood take over. He would pick on the boy, tease him and sneakily insult him with words he didn't understand, all of that without Dutch finding out, of course. 

This morning, Arthur was awoken by John jumping on his cot, which put him in a lovely mood. "Arthur Arthur, come see!"  
As he exited his tent, eyes still heavy with sleep, poorly dressed and boots barely on, John grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the bed he wished he was still sleeping in.  
The boy showed him the bottle he had managed to shoot, so Arthur decided to spend a few minutes adjusting his position. No doubt Marston would be a great gunman one day, if only he would practice after sun had actually risen.  
I wish he were a little older, Arthur thought. It was rare to not see them arguing; John could be good company when he wanted to. Hosea said it was due to his young age, and Arthur wanted to believe it, but sometimes he guessed it was just because Marston was an idiot. A jackass and an idiot. 

“Now look straight ahead, right through the bottle“ Arthur started, taking John’s tiny hand in his.

“I can do it Arthur, leave me alone!!“ he shouted

“What? You went to me asking for help though...“ Arthur murmured. It was too early to start another feud. “Go on then, shoot another bottle.“ 

John angled his gun, adjusted his gaze, feet planted in the floor, as if he were a tree with roots, and shot. And shot. And shot again. John eventually hit one of the neatly placed bottles on the tree stump, and celebrated with shooting a mischevious gaze at Arthur. “Woah you’ve really impressed me here boy“ Arthur grabbed the gun from John’s hands and shot all remaining bottles, not missing any shot.

“Hey!! you shot all of my bottles!“ 

“Still don’t want help?“ Arthur started, smiling cockily. He would have left it there if it weren’t for John suddenly hitting him. “Hey! Why did you do that for, you twat?“ 

“Go fetch me some more bottes since you destroyed all of mine!“

“What? No way! Do that yourself, I’ve got work to do.“

“Work? It’s barely dawn! You’re lying because you’re a lazy old man!“

“Old man? Watch your mouth! And I’ve been woken up by a certain brat, may I add!“ 

John hit Arthur again, only this time with much more force.  
This resulted in Arthur losing his mind and pushing the kid away, but as he was shouting insults to John, Arthur was interrupted by a very angry Dutch Van Der Linde. “Arthur! What’s gotten to your head!!“ he stopped right away, and spotted the look John gave him. 

It was somewhere between a grin and an unsettlingly evil gaze, that was accentuated by a whispered “You forgot I’m his favorite, dumbass“

Normally Arthur did not give in to anger around people from the gang, after all he was a grown man and should act such as. But he was lost. So lost he didn’t know what to do or say. Dutch was furious with him, the scrawny kid delighted, Hosea and Bessie disappointed and the rest of the gang members -those who were awake, that is- were observing the scene with great interest.

So Arthur just left; well he actually stomped and probably tricked an animal or two into thinking there was an earthquake. Once he reached a tree by the edge of camp, he slumped against it and began throwing leaves and small pebbles around, trying to cool down (it wasn’t working).  
Dutch ignored the gunslinger and immediately went by John’s side, who was now crying, too. Hosea and Bessie, however, shared a look, and nodded.

Bessie made her way over to the other man, who was still sitting by the tree, angrily throwing rocks to the ground. His face was flushed with anger and she could tell he had most certainly not calmed down.  
She sat down next to him, making sure her dress was not to be wrinkled underneath.  
"How are you, Arthur?" she was inspecting the rocks Arthur was throwing, they were starting to form a little pile a few inches away. 

The young man kept quiet, not acknowledging Bessie at all. She let a few minutes pass, considering leaving; when he threw a bigger rock with much more force that destroyed the pile, before speaking up.  
"I'm mad at myself Bessie. This boy..." Arthur clenched his fist "He makes me lose my mind and act like a goddamn child." 

Bessie sighed "It's alright Arthur. You know, living all together ain't easy sometimes..." she gently picked a rock from the ground and threw it near where the pile used to be.

Arthur looked at her, and she smiled at him "It's not just that, It's... Why me? You know?" Bessie studied the camp lazily, finding Dutch mumbling to the little boy. He still appeared to be tense but Bessie knew for sure John was putting on a show for Dutch so that he would console him.  
"I hate children, and I have to be in charge of this one? I really thought he was just kiddin' at first, you know, but no... Arthur Morgan has a demon baby now. That makes him act like a teenager again, on top of that!"

Bessie chuckled lightly, recalling two nights ago, when Arthur threw the bench across the camp fire before dramatically escaping to his tent, failing miserably to close the gap and screaming into his pillow because John commented on how Arthur was not good at fishing. "You know, Arthur... Before meeting mister Matthews and running away with him, I lived with my 3 sisters and 2 brothers. I know what you're going through, but you have to stay strong. He'll mature soon enough, you'll see." 

"But when will he stop being so... teen? Always teasing me about being Dutch's favourite or wanting to tag along to absolutely everything I do?!" Arthur continued, grabbing a fistful of pebbles and throwing them in all directions, none of them joining the ones from the previous pile.

"That I don't know Arthur." He looked desperate. His eyebrows were furrowed, making his blue eyes barely visible but still revealing a hint of worry. "My youngest sister was a pain to deal with, she would scream whenever things didn't go her way, pull our hair... She was lovely, right?"  
He laughed and Arthur's shoulders relaxed, he seemed calmer, much to Bessie's delight. She hated seeing anyone like that.  
"Some days, we wouldn’t speak to each other. I had this little journal back then, and I would write about my day, my worries, things like that. It really helps to feel like yourself again." 

Arthur chuckled, but his interest had definitively been peaked, imagining the thousands pages of complaints about a certain twelve year-old he could write.

"I have a new one in my tent, if you'd like it." she said, smiling fondly at the young man before rising to her feet, walking back to her and Hosea's tent, muttering behind her breath "boys...". 

The sun had already settled when Arthur and John were seen together again. The little one was going on about how the orphanage carers were probably all gunslingers that had been caught by the gouvernement all because they were so stupid they couldn’t hide properly, to which Arthur laughed fondly, sitting on the bench by the campfire while Bessie placed the small journal and a new pencil on Arthur's bed, smiling fondly at the sight of the brothers finally at peace. 

After a while, the young adult walked back to his tent, tired after the surprisingly eventful day. Arthur sat on his bed, sighing, and noticed the leather journal and opened it, inspecting the blank pages. He sketched a little squirrel on a branch but was unsatisfied with his drawing so he looked between the tent's flaps to find some inspiration. Dutch and Hosea were laughing at John -probably getting mocked due to his cheeks being bright red- and Arthur could almost hear his offended grating voice prentending he wasn’t.  
Arthur chuckled and wrote down a few words; when he closed the journal a small letter escaped from the pages and fell right on Arthur’s laps. He read it before lying down and getting some sleep.

“Arthur, 

Take care of this journal for me, fill it with all the things you like, draw, rant, recite your adventures on missions, write down your feelings, express your emotions, because God knows how many emotions one feels in a day.  
You are a man Arthur, mature and important to everyone in this camp, but your feelings deserve to be acknowledged. You don’t need to ‘man up‘ and your sentiments towards John will eventually die down, as he grows. I know it’s hard to believe, but trust me. Trust him, too. 

Make good use of the diary, 

Bessie." 

Some time had passed, the incident had been days, weeks ago, when Bessie was going to get Silver Dollar ready for Hosea to ride him later out in the town nearby, when something fell from Arthur’s nightstand; it was none other than the diary she had given him after a particularly violent dispute. The small journal was opened on one of the very first pages, and her eyes couldn’t help but fall on the words. 

"Dear journal or whatever,

John Marston is a fucking idiot."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Have a good day :)


End file.
